


The Parking Permit

by SLWalker



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-15
Updated: 2006-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's worse than hostile monsters?  Red tape!  Written for <a href="http://kvancelot.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://kvancelot.livejournal.com/"><strong>kvancelot</strong></a>.  Definitely humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Parking Permit

The counter seemed to stretch into eternity. At the very least, it stretched into the distance, and the far wall was nothing more than a faded gray speck almost out of visual range. If it were empty, it would look like a vast, useless hallway badly in need of a custodian.

It wasn't empty. In fact, it was extremely cramped. Species from all over the known universe milled about. Three fights had broken out. Seven expectant parents gave birth, four more laid eggs and managed to create makeshift nests out of borrowed clothing, and the chaos showed no sign of abating any time within the next century.

And that was only within the immediate vicinity.

Nyssa rubbed at the tops of her arms, exchanged a sympathetic look with the Gorn a few seats down on the bench, and then made the mistake of looking at the ticker on the wall. The fact that the 'first come, first served' order had to be expressed in exponential numbers was bad enough. The fact that it took an absurdly long time to see any change in the numbers made it worse.

Not for the first time in the past three days, she was glad that Tegan wasn't there for this. Not that she didn't miss her friend, and badly, but because she knew that there would have been bloodshed by now. Lots of bloodshed.

She watched the latest victim at the counter as they were handed enough forms to bind into a book, and winced internally. The victim turned away from the counter with a sob, carrying the papers, and retreated into the crowd.

It had started so innocently. But then, it always did.

  
"It's one of the most travelled spaceports in this half of the galaxy," the Doctor had said, cheerily, as he hit the lever to open the doors. "Quite a place. There's an open air market; you'd be surprised what you can find. Rather like a giant, interplanetary flea market."

"That does sound nice," Nyssa had replied, as she followed him out of the TARDIS.

They hadn't gotten more than two steps, however, before a voice interrupted. "I'm sorry, I don't see your parking permit displayed."

The Doctor had turned, looking bewildered, and had eyed the strange man in the brown suit. "I'm sorry... parking permit?"

"All vessels landing, materializing or otherwise have to have a parking permit." The man had gestured to the blue police box. "If you'll just show me the permit, this will be settled in a matter of moments."

The Doctor was still trying to talk his way out of it when he was cuffed and escorted away. Nyssa, uncertain as to what she could do, had made the mistake of asking the man in the brown suit, "How can we fix this?"

"Obtain a parking permit," he had replied, "or pay the fine."

  
When she had found out the amount of the fine, she was absolutely positive that obtaining the permit would be far, far easier than trying to mortgage the entire planet it would take to come up with that kind of capital.

Two days more, making it five now by the galactic standard measure, and she wondered where she could find a planet she could conquer and sell. It went wildly against her own gentle nature, but the thoughts came unbidden anyway. Then she looked at the long paper number printout in her hand, and the ticker on the wall, and whimpered.

  
Nine days in, and Nyssa was beginning to wonder if she had ever actually lived a life before this absurdity. She had fallen into the pattern; the office closed and the vast array of department-owned and operated rental rooms opened. When she could get there fast enough to rent one, she usually still ended up sleeping on the floor, rather than the bed. When she couldn't, she dozed on the bench. Cheap, tasteless, dehydrated food was available from vending machines; she started daydreaming of real food. Fresh food. Even marginally fresh food.

Anything that didn't taste like cardboard.

  
Thirteen days in, and she had helped birth offspring, had donated as much of her clothing as she could to making nests for hatchlings, had watched two people try to hang themselves insanely with their ticker numbers and had decided that she didn't want to just conquer a world... she wanted to conquer the universe. Her first order of business would be to outlaw bureaucracy.

  
It was the eighteenth day when she was finally called to the counter. After seeing how many people, from the toughest and most feared to the meekest and gentlest, had been sent away sobbing with forms, she had steeled herself for the same.

It took three minutes. And in a daze, Nyssa, formerly of Traken, now unwitting resident of the Department of Transpacial Vehicles, wandered out. She clutched the permit close.

  
"There you are! I was beginning to get concerned. You wouldn't believe how deplorable the conditions are in here..." the Doctor's voice trailed off as he peered at his companion through the bars of the cell, worriedly. "Are you all right?"

Nyssa held the permit to her chest for a long moment, then very carefully folded it and put it in her pocket. "I need credits."

"Oh! I suppose they want bail on top of everything else." He fell to muttering half under his breath as he dug through his pockets and finally came up with the right credit chip from the proper era.

Nyssa stepped over, reaching through the bars to take it. Once she had it securely in her grip, she corrected him, "No. I think I'm going to go have a fine dinner, then perhaps rent a nice hotel room. I think I could use a long bath, and a good night's rest. I may go shopping as well. Then, when I'm feeling a little better," meaning, not wanting to conquer any universes, "I'll show the constable the permit."

His eyes went wide. "Wait, Nyssa--"

She grabbed the front of his pullover, pulled him up against the bars and snatched the celery off of his lapel before he had time to even register what she was doing. Then she stepped back again, smiling sweetly. "After that, I'll forgive you for what I've just gone through. But only after that, Doctor."

She took a bite of the celery, made a face and tossed it aside, and then walked away with her head held high, leaving behind an utterly dumbfounded Time Lord.

It was a small consolation prize. But she would take it.


End file.
